BloodShot Eyes
by Comidia Del Arte
Summary: Dr. Facilier decides to have a look at New Orleans latest dance club. He ends up being the dance partner of the club's main attraction.
1. How About a Dance?

A fresh dance club had just opened its doors in the bright city of New Orleans. The place was the sudden highlight of the city. Every night it was packed with people, sipping drinks and listening to the band. The club had only requirement for entrance. You must wear a mask. It was a bit of an annoyance; however it created a sense of mystery and intrigue. Drawing people in like honey drew flies. The club had been dubbed "The Swing."

The Swing had a main star, their head diva. She had the most luscious blonde hair, and the iciest of blue eyes. The Diva went by the name Vixen, for it was what she was. A beautiful, but dangerous creature, but on the night that the Shadowman made the choice to visit The Swing, Vixen had fallen sick with stomach pains.

The boss of The Swing was uneasy with sending in his favorite Diva's understudy. But he had no choice; he couldn't close down his club. That would only ruin him. So with reluctance he called for Stella and told her that tonight she would be taking the stage as the Diva.

Facilier walked into The Swing, scoping out the club for a place to sit. He found himself a cozy spot at the bar. He ordered some whiskey. Facilier felt at peace, glad that no one looked his way or even bothered to send him a look of hatred. The music thumped and played behind him, creating a pleasant background noise to the buzz of light conversation.

Suddenly the music became louder, curious; Facilier turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes fell onto the figure of a woman being pulled on stage. She had onyx black hair; her skin was a light shade of caramel. The pianist began to play the introduction to the next song. Without any hesitation the girl grabbed the mike and sang. Her voice was rough, but in a way alluring.

With her hips swinging and her fingers snapping, the singer jumped off the stage and went around the club. Several men came her way, trying to get a dance out of her. But they had no success. She would simply sing. _"Don't role those bloodshot eyes at me. I can tell that you've been out on a spree. Now it's plain that you're lying when you say that you've been crying. Don't role those bloodshot eyes at me." _

Facilier stood slowly and walked over in the direction of the singer. One of the men again attempted to snatch her hand, but she spun away. And right into the Shadowman. With a sly smile, she took his hands in hers and led him on a merry dance. After getting over his shock, Facilier took up the role of the man and lead the dance. The musicians played their solo while the girl danced with him. Facilier spun her around and dipped her, bringing her back up. He ran his hands along her sides.

The singer gasped in slight surprise, but played along. Turning on his she grabbed Facilier by the front of his vest and pushed him backwards. _"So I guess our little romance has finally simmered down."_

With a carful shove, the woman pushed him into an empty chair. Without batting an eyelash, she placed herself on his lap. Facilier was in absolute shock of this woman. In that second of having the lady on his lap, The Shadowman took in the girl's features. Her eyes were like a dark oasis. And her lips were painted plum purple; they were plump but not too plump. The mask she wore matched her sea green dress, and the blue gems hanging from the edges of the mask complied well with her caramel flesh.

The lady smiled at him, and brought her beautiful lips just hair's breadth from Facilier's own lips. He moved forward an inch to meet them. But she pulled away, laughter in her eyes. Giving him a swift peck on the cheek she sang. _"You should join a circus; you'd make a real good clown."_

Facilier's hat was swept from atop his head; the woman placed the hat on her own head and winked at him over her shoulder. When she did this several men roared with laughter at Facilier's expense. Swaying her hips, the singer looked right at Facilier and sang. _"Your eyes look like a road map; I'm scared to smell your breath."_ At this she waved a hand in front of her face, as if smelling something foul.

Wagging a finger at him, she sung. _"You better shut your peepers before you bleed to death."_

Turning she made her way towards the stage. _"Don't role those bloodshot eyes at me, well its plain that you're lying, when you say that you've been crying."_ Two men lifted her onto the stage; the woman grabbed the mike and finished her song. _"Don't role those bloodshot eyes at me, don't role those bloodshot eyes at me."_

Removing Facilier's top hat from her head and swept into a graceful bow. Coming back to her full height, she eyed the club, searching until her eyes landed on the Shadowman himself. With a flirty grin she blew him a kiss and tossed him his top hat. Facilier caught it without fail. Looking at the stage, he graced the singer with his most charming gator like smile.

Seeing that the applause was never going to cease, The Swing's owner stepped onto the stage, and introduced the young lady "Stella Able ladies and gentlemen!"

Stella smiled and bowed again, enjoying the attention. After yet another bow, she left the stage. As Stella walked behind the curtain, she felt something brush along her fingertips. Looking down, she found a purple rose floating just out of the reach of her fingers. Gently she took the rose. Attached to it was a business card. "Dr. Facilier: Tarot readings, charms, potions. Dreams made real." Stella read aloud. Taking notice of something on the back of the card she flipped it over. Written in blood red ink was a quick message which read. 'From your road map eyed admirer.'

Stella bit back the blushing smile that so desperately wanted to take control of her face. Bringing the rose to her nose she took in its scent. It smelled divine. Smiling, Stella walked into her dressing room and placed it in a cup of water. Then she carefully stuck the business card into the edge of her vanity. Taking a seat she looked into her mirror, still smiling. "He had the most enchanting purple eyes." She mumbled to herself.


	2. Flats and Spying Roses

It was past ten when the club closed, much to the disappointment of its customers. The workers stayed for an extra hour or so, to clean and set everything up to be ready for the next night. Stella was now wearing her usual waitressing uniform. She was still buzzing from the excitement of her debut. According to her boss, she had stirred up the audience, even more than the Vixen ever could "Stella, you still with us darlin?"

A hand floated in front of her face, Stella batted it away and laughed, her eyes fixing onto the face of her fellow waitress, Diana. "Yeah I'm here, just thinking."

Diana rolled her doughy brown eyes. They landed on the purple rose, which Stella had wrapped up in a wet newspaper. "From an admirer I assume, look out Vixen may come after you."

Stella playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder. "I ain't enough to rival her, also that little bitty would be worried about breaking a nail."

The woman's voice was laced with a hint of New York, but it there was something else in there. It had the undertone of an English accent. But it seemed to mix with the slang that Stella had picked up from the locals. She came to New Orleans in the hopes of finding a better job, compared to New York, this dusty place was calmer and tad more cheery. Something that was an improvement, Stella had been raised here as a child. But her father's business took them to New York. Shortly after he died, Stella worked hard to earn enough money to return to her home town. She had only been home for half a year. And she was pleased to be back. Even though she was currently residing in a small flat in town and living humbly, there was more of a skip in her step and her eyes were far brighter than ever. And now with the thought of a sudden raise in her pay, which meant she would be doing what she loved every night. Stella was ready to burst into tears of joy.

Though this city was warm during the day, the nights were chilly. Stella tucked herself further into the regions of her jacket as she made her way home, alone. As she walked, her heels clicked against the gravel in an almost uneven fashion. Stella inwardly groaned she should have brought another pair of shoes with her. These shoes were meant to be danced in, not be worn all over the place. Her feet were suffering for her assumption at the comfort of dance shoves on streets.

Finally making it home, Stella fished in her bag for her keys as she made her way up a small flight of stairs to the second level. Reaching her door, she shoved her keys into the lock. Twisting it, the door sprang open, entering her humble abode flicking on the lights. Stella threw herself down onto an old somewhat moth eaten couch, and proceeded to remove her cramped feet from her shoes. Within seconds she had shimmied out of her waitress garb. With a hint of reluctance, Stella got up and made her way over to the bed nearby. The apartment was quaint, small, a single large room, small bathroom, and a kitchen just a few steps away from the couch and bed. There was a good sized window, which over looked the city. A rather enjoyable view, as to enjoy it more, Stella had set a small wooden table next to the window.

Throwing on the ratty nightgown, Stella glanced out the window at the lights of the crescent city, the metropolis that that never slept. Even after ten it was alive, of course it was nothing compared to New York, but still the energy of the people was impressive. Smiling, Stella walked over to the small stove top in the back of the apartment. On one of the burners sat an empty tea pot; which was half full with water that she had boiled last night.

As the water began to slowly come to a boil, Stella finally focused her attention on her dance partner's gift. Removing the now dry newspaper, she placed it in a small vase filled with cold water. Smiling she placed it on the small side table next to her bed. Stella's eye widened when the purple rose slowly blossomed, causing it to release a pleasant but faint aroma. She stared at it, not fully sure that this rose was normal. The tea pot began to whistle. Tearing Stella's attention away from the strange flower, a minute later, the young woman was sitting on her bed a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. However she remained completely unaware that the rose had somehow moved itself, into a position, as if it were watching her.

On the other side of town, within the confines of a dark Emporium, dark spider like hands danced across a fogged orb. Violet eyes watched the image that slowly came into focus. Facilier's smile broadened. There she sat, oblivious to the fact that his gift was his way of observing her. The rose simply needed fresh water to bring it to life, he inwardly sighed. Though he considered himself a gentleman of sorts, he felt slightly disappointed that he was missed Ms. Able's change from her work attire to her nightgown. She looked so innocent, relaxed with a cup of tea and a book. An interesting choice in literature; a collection of Sherlock Holmes's many adventures, the girl had taste. The good Doctor watched as Stella brought her cup up to lips for another sip. Her lips were so alluring; her parents must have been a mixed race couple. Illegal they may be, but if one of her parent's skins had been light enough to pass for a very dark tan. The family could have gotten away with it. But those lips didn't like, they were as full as any black woman's.

This little charade lasted for about an hour, until Stella finished off her tea and put her book down. Leaning forward, over the rose, she turned out the light. In that brief moment, Facilier could have taken the chance to see what lay under that shabby nightgown. But the Doctor did not feel like that little peek would be justified. No, if he wanted to see Stella in that light, oh he needed to earn it. So when she leaned forward, Facilier turned away, giving Stella her unknown privacy. When he looked back, he could just make out the silhouette of her relaxed form. Smiling, Facilier moved her hands away, allowing the crystal orb to go black. As he retired for the night, Facilier made plans to start frequenting "The Swing."


	3. Confrontation

Stella awoke the next morning to the sun kissing her face, with gentle rays of sweet warmth. Sitting up, the thin bed sheets slowly fell from her body. Swinging her legs around, Stella got out of bed, intent on abating the hungered sounds of her stomach.

Brushing a few wild strands of hair from her face, Stella took out a small carton of eggs from the fridge. Soon the lovely scent of frying eggs permeated the apartment. While cooking her breakfast, Stella sang to herself. "Now you say you're lonely, you cried all night through. Well you can cry me a river, cry me a river. I cried a river over you."

Dishing the eggs onto a chipped plate, Stella walked over to the table. Taking a seat, she looked out the window. It was only 9 am, and yet it was already warm outside. When Stella had finished breakfast, she swiped a finger through the remnants of the broken yolk. Licking her fingers, she got up and proceeded to clean the dish and finish her cup of coffee.

Looking at her fruit cabinet, Stella concluded she needed to go to the market for some more food, she was running low. So, with that in mind, she went and took a very quick shower. After which she put on a dark blue skirt with a light blue button short sleeve blouse. Pulling her black hair out of her face, Stella put it into a bun, allowing a stray bit of hair to escape and frame her face. Giving herself a quick once over in the mirror, only then did Stella grab a basket for her shopping.

The sun was warm on her skin, despite the early morning. Gripping her basket, Stella spun around. A bright smile adorned her features, causing her eyes to shine like the stars children wished upon. It only took 10 minutes to reach the market; the place was a wonder of tastes and exotics. There were not only the usual apples and strawberries; there were also watermelons, pineapples, and even bananas.

Skirting through some of the booths, Stella eyed the foods. Despite her having breakfast only a short time ago, the smell of fresh produce made her stomach rumble with anticipation. Stella was no cook, but she was still a lover of food.

Stopping at her favorite stand, Stella focused on her preferred fruit, which happened to be pineapples. Expensive as they were, today Stella felt she deserved a treat. She very rarely bought them. Picking up the strange but sweet fruit, she proceeded to inspect it. Checking for an even tone of sun kissed yellow, going from the wild leaves of the top, to the bottom of the pineapple. Seeing the coloring was to her liking, Stella took a careful sniff, and enjoyed the mild aroma of the pineapple, instead of rotting fruit. Nodding to herself, she placed the pineapple into her basket, and paid the vender.

Leaving the fruit stand, Stella made her way toward the part of the market where flowers were sold. Last night, she considered it rather silly to have only one lonely rose in her apartment. Stella felt that more were required to give her home a tad for warmth.

Hooking her arm through the handle of her basket, Stella began to carefully pick flowers in order to make a bouquet. She felt content with the scent of the beautiful blooms, her fingers running up against the petals of roses, checking their freshness. Her serenity was interrupted, by the feeling the hair on the back of her taking going erect with the realization that she was being watching. Steadying her hand, Stella's eyes shot up from her work, only to lock gazes with pair violet irises. It was the man from last night, her mysterious dance partner.

Coming to her full height, Stella gave Facilier a shy smile. She recognized him now, who wouldn't? Last night, she had only realized that she had shared a dance with one of the most dangerous men in New Orleans. But that dawn of enlightenment came after her daring act.

The Shadowman tipped his hat to her, gracing her with a rather suggestive but all be it innocent smile. She looked quite dumbstruck and unsure, like an alert doe, except without the doughy brown eyes of a deer looking at him. Inwardly, Facilier was disappointed to see Stella's hair up, he much preferred her hair to be down. Dark onyx locks dancing freely around her sweetly shaped neck.

Not caring that his gaze made the beautiful black eyed lady nervous, Facilier leaned forward on his cane his eyes mischievous and calculating. After a while, Stella decided to ignore the so called stalker, and returned to the task at hand, finding the right flowers for her bouquet. It wasn't long until she had fixed herself with a decent set of blooms. Pulling some money from her pocket, Stella paid the flower man, looked at Facilier, and then turned, leaving the market for home.

Frowning, Facilier took up his cane, and followed close behind. They were a quarter of a mile away from Stella's home, and in that time, she had grown rather annoyed with being pursued. Turing sharply on her heal, she found herself face to chest with the witch doctor. A little befuddled by the closeness, she took a step back. "Would you mind telling me why you deem it necessary to stalk me?"

At her question, Facilier chuckled. "Well, I wanted to speak with you on the matter of your liking my gift cherie, but you weren't in such a chatty mood in the market."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Stella raised an eyebrow. "I would have spoken with you if you had approached me and asked, instead of stare at me with your mouth open like a starving dog."

Cocking his head to the right, Facilier's ever present smile widened. "You have quite a mouth on you, don't you?"

Completely un-amused Stella replied. "It's reserved for an immature man, such as yourself Doctor, if that is a proper title to address you by?"

Leaning on his cane, the good Doctor winked at her. "Ya'll speak as if you're a proper lady."

Placing her hands on her hips, Stella replied hotly. "I was well educated."

This made Facilier laugh. "And yet here ya are, dancing and singing to men who want nothing more than that pretty little body of yours." Snarling, Stella pushed a finger into his face. "Listen here you common ass, my life is none of your business, just because I danced with you means nothing. Hell! I may do the same sort of act with another man tonight!" That said, she turned on her heal and stormed off.

Pulling back into his full height, Facilier shook his head. Suddenly his silhouette seemed to grow a mind of its own. Shadowed fingers clutched his shoulder, as the shaded creature whispered into its master's ear. Nodding, Facilier gave it a wicked smile. "She is quite the little spit fire. So naïve and you are correct in assuming. She is pure, no one has touched her…. Yet."


	4. Author's Note

**Authors Note: **

Ummm, hi every one! So, I know that I've been taking a long to time to update this story. I am aware that many of you want to me to get back to work on it. However, lately I've been feeling the call of another girl's story in the world of The Princess and the Frog.

I'll be putting Bloodshot Eyes on hold for the moment, because for the time being my muse is directing itself toward my other fics, and possibly a new one. I'm sorry to those who have been reading this, but if you also write fanfiction, you understand that inspiration comes and goes. So I'm just going to stop thinking about this story for a while.

Again I apologize for putting this on hold. I hope you understand, in the mean while give my other fics a look see. If you like my writing, maybe you'll enjoy the others.


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